


The Games You Play

by whereisfrankiero13



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereisfrankiero13/pseuds/whereisfrankiero13
Summary: What day was it? What year? What time was it? Those questions filtered through his head, constantly. He knew how many cracks or crevasses that were in the basement. He counted them, hundreds of times.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> so i wouldn't take this story lightly. i blame billie eilish and law & order: svu

The red light was a steadily blinking in the corner of the room. It was on, of course. It was always on in the dark, mildew-smelling basement. The mildew was all he could smell, aside from the bucket that he used as a bathroom that got dumped out two-three times a week. The basement door was closed, locked from the outside. This was life he knew of; the smell, the light, the camera, the lack of windows. Frank couldn’t tell what time it was, or if it was night or day. He didn’t know when his birthday was anymore, or if it had already passed. What day was it? What year? What time was it? Those questions filtered through his head, constantly. He knew how many cracks or crevasses that were in the basement. He counted them, hundreds of times. The concrete walls felt cold, always so cold. The used mattress was shoved in a corner; Frank didn’t want to sleep on that smelly, old thing that _He_ had given him. It was used, disgusting. There were blood stains on every inch of that mattress. Frank didn’t know how many people had slept or had been hurt on that thing.

Frank thought about the people before him. Where they alive? Dead? What were they doing with their lives? Were they doing okay? Did counseling help them through all of this? Frank would often start to cry because he knew… No one was alive. Frank knew they all died in this basement. If someone would have lived, then _He_ would be gone, wouldn’t _He_? Frank was going to die here, wasn’t he? The tears would run down his cheeks, fast. _He_ liked when Frank cried. Frank always listened to hear where _He_ was be. _He_ walked hard on the floor; thump, thump, thump. _He_ was a big, middle-aged man. _He_ was attractive. Or so Frank used to think before he got himself into this mess.

The voice inside his head told him that it _wasn’t_ his fault. The voice in his head was his only friend; the one who talked to him. Argued with him. Frank probably knew this wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t schizophrenic, or anything, but the voice there had kept him company when he needed it. It helped him stay awake most of the time; when he needed it. He had gone days… or was it hours? Days – it _had_ to be days – without sleep.

The lack of time or sun kept him crazy; he missed the warm sun rays that beat down on his skin during the warm months. He wished he could hear the ticking noise from a clock. A watch. Music is another thing he wished he could hear. But if he listened to it, he’d miss the _thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_ of _His_ feet. The steel-toed boots would dig sharply into his ribs if _He_ found Frank asleep _‘in_ His _company’_. _He_ was mean.

+++

 _Thump_ … _thump_ … _thump_ …

It startled Frank when he heard it above him. It gave him the shakes because he knew what happened next. He would come downstairs, look at Frank, look at the camera’s footage. If Frank had fallen asleep, then he wouldn’t get awarded. He was to fall asleep at night, but when was that? Frank knew it was a mind game; a sick joke. If Frank hadn’t fallen asleep during the ‘day’, then he could get food. A reward. Frank didn’t know how long since it had been since he had an actual meal rather than leftovers or scraps that had already been chewed and spat out. When _He_ was cooking, the smell would go throughout the entire house, making Frank’s mouth water and stomach growl… _He_ was doing it on purpose. Frank was treated like an abused animal in a cage.

The door swung open, bright light had flooded through the door, blinding Frank’s sensitive eyes. The light was so foreign to him now. Dark was all he knew. The loud stomping of _His_ boots that went down the steps as _He_ made _His_ way towards Frank. Frank held his breath as he felt the presences of _Him_. _He_ always hummed as _He_ took a glance at Frank’s pathetic self; knees hugged up to his chest, face red from crying. Trembled. _Always_ trembled. Frank was a scared, pathetic creature that was _His_ favorite play toy that _He_ ever owned.

“How are you doing, Frankie?” _He_ asked once he was done humming a song that must have been stuck in his head. Frank couldn’t put his finger on what it was; it sounded familiar. Maybe it was a child’s nursery song, or something. Frank didn’t know. “Did you miss me? I missed you.”

Frank looked up briefly; he wasn’t allowed, but he did it before _He_ could catch him. _He_ had a bowl of food that smelled amazing. It made Frank’s mouth water with want, and his stomach growled silently. It must have been awhile since the last time that he had eaten. The food had caught his attention so much that he had forgotten the questions that he was asked. _Fuck_ , Frank thought. Frank was just so thirsty and hungry… Frank opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry.

“Did you hear me? Fucking _pathetic_.” _He_ had kicked Frank’s shins, earning a silent gasp. “Answer the question,” _He_ demanded.

“Yes, Sir,” Frank said, swallowing the lump in his throat, the extra saliva. He wracked his brains for what the older man had said to him. It was so hard to remember especially with the smell of food that smelled _so_ strong. “I-I missed you, Sir,” he said, hoping that it was the same thing that _He_ always said. It was to boost _His_ ego; have someone so dependent on _Him_.

“Good boy, but that was strike one, Frankie.” He cleared His throat, looked over at the camera to make sure that it was still recording. _He_ nodded, licking _His_ lips as _He_ walked over there to check to see what Frank had done throughout the day. Or night, Frank didn’t know. He wasn’t allowed to ask either.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, tormenting Frank as he shook the bowl in front of him. It was chicken noodle soup. Before being kidnapped, Frank was vegan. He refused to eat anything that was related to an animal, but here… he had no choice but to even be grateful for what he was offered, or else starve more. He didn’t want to die here by starving himself. “You want some?”

“Please, Sir,” Frank said, knowing that if he just nodded, he’d get nothing. _He_ wanted to hear Frank’s words. Frank’s throat was so dry that it was hard to talk; he hated having to talk to the man above him. “ _Thank_ _you_ for the offer, Sir,” Frank added.

“You’re very obedient today,” _He_ told Frank with a sadistic smile that was plastered on _His_ face. “Before I give you this, I have to check the camera. You’re not supposed to sleep during the day, remember?”

“Yes, of course, Sir,” Frank said as he tried to think back to if he might have accidentally dozed off. He hoped that he hadn’t because the soup smelled so, _so_ good. Frank waited patiently for the older man to get to the camera to check the footage. Frank’s heart was beating so heavy that he felt like it was going to bust through his chest. One mistake could ruin it all. _One_.

 _He_ had looked through all the footage which seemed like a lifetime. The Man was pleased with him, walked back over to the trembling boy who was starving. He could tell that Frank wanted the soup that was no longer warm anymore due to the freezing basement. It wouldn’t warm the younger boy below _Him_ anymore like _He_ knew the boy wanted. During the cold months, Frank often gotten sick. _He_ had people who helped with Frank’s sickness. Everyone swore to secrecy as they had the same lifestyle as _He_ did.

“You really have been a good boy,” The man muttered, handing the now cold soup to Frank. _He_ watched Frank take it graciously in his shaky hands. “Do you need water?”

“Yes, Sir, please.” Frank hadn’t dared to eat as he wasn’t told to do so. It was a trick to see if he would disobey and get the food taken away. “May I eat, Sir?” As much as Frank hated the older man, he always would force himself to use manners.

“Yes you may,” the older man told him, pleased with Frank’s behavior. He looked over at the camera, making sure it was turned on as it recorded the communication between them. They had plenty of followers on a porn website; they thought it was consensual and that Frank was of legal age. He was hardly eighteen. Or was he? That made Frank want to cry… he didn’t know his own age anymore. The last time he remembered he had turned seventeen a few months prior to this hell.

Frank slowly sipped the soup as he wasn’t offered a spoon. He was grateful, nonetheless. The food tasted so good, made the liquids sooth his dry throat and mouth. He still wished he had the water that was offered. The soup was good and salty, but water would make it feel better. The small chicken chunks and soup made his stomach feel better. It was unexpected when he heard _Him_ talk again.

“I have a business meeting in a few days,” _He_ said, watched Frank’s eyes swell with tears. Frank knew what those _business meetings_ meant. It meant that His friends would stop by and hurt him as well. They would demand Frank to say he enjoyed the beating and rape. _He_ didn’t like the word rape; Frank knew it was rape but _He_ and _His_ friends made him say otherwise. They would make Frank aroused, despite him crying and not wanting to.

“You’ll be good to my friends, won’t you?” _He_ asked, loved the way Frank stopped sipping the soup. “You’ll do as we asked, right? Be a good boy for Daddy?”

Frank nodded, forgetting to use his words despite the fact that he knew better than to just nod. The bowl was slapped out of his hands, shattered on the floor, spilling the rest of the soup onto the floor. Frank started to breathe heavily as the anxiety started to set in again. Frank didn’t want _Them_ here – he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mom and dad, not this sick, sadistic man above him who played God.

Frank was digging himself a bigger grave for every second that he stayed silent, but he couldn’t speak. His body refused to say anything besides to produce fat tears that streamed down his cheeks. His lips trembled with fear. There was no way to stop _Him_ from the abuse, or _His_ friend’s abuse towards Frank. If Frank had fought back, then _He_ would punish Frank greatly. Frank often wished he was dead.  


 

It no longer surprised him when he felt the ache on his broken, defeated body. It no longer surprised him to know that the soup was drugged with whatever to make him pass out, not watch the horrific things that He made him do. Sometimes, Frank was rather grateful for it because it meant that he didn’t remember it until the pain set in – if it did. The ache between his legs, the feel of blood or semen, or both wetting his thighs. His stomach hurt, along with his ribs. Frank worried that He may have broken a rib or something; not like it’s the first time.

  


 

  



	2. Chapter 2

Quiet was all that was heard until the doors slammed open, multiple footsteps coming down the metal steps. Frank knew what time it was. He heard the commotion of the older men that made their way down towards Frank. Frank hadn’t eaten since… Frank didn’t know. It had to be longer than last time; Frank felt so weak and hungry and thirsty. Nothing would be able to stop him from passing out as soon as the men got ahold of him. The people on the pornsites assumed that this was consensual; that Frank wanted to be treated this way for millions to see  _ His _ sick fantasies. Frank could only imagine men jerking off to this sick joke that He set up. Sometimes viewers were able to request certain things… they tended to be worse than what  _ He _ and  _ His _ friends would do. 

Frank’s heart sped up when he saw three men in front of him. Frank looked at them with half-lidded eyes; each one had their own name that Frank had given him. The much, much older one was a doctor who came around when Frank got sick, and his name was  _ X..  _  Then there was a middle-aged one who wore the same suit as  _ Him,  _ his name was  _ A _ . Then there was  _ C _ .  _ C _ hardly came down to mess with Frank; it was rare to see him, but if Frank had to choose between the four men, he would choose  _ C _ .  _ C _ came quick  and easy, and didn’t hurt him as bad as the others.  _ X _ and  _ A _ were more hurtful than  _ Him _ . 

The three men had walked over towards the trembling, anxious boy in the corner of the room. Everything that been cleaned when  _ He _ left this morning;  _ He _ would be gone for three days. During that time, the three men would give him something to eat and drink -- typically it was scraps or food they found from a trash can outside of a restaurant or fast food place. It was better than nothing at all, Frank would often think to himself as he scarfed the food. However, the meal came  _ afte _ r the abuse. While  _ He  _ was gone, the men were free to do whatever they wanted as long as the camera saw. When  _ He _ got home, faces -- except for Frank’s -- were blurred. These men lived a fancy life.

“How are ya doin, Frankie?”  _ X _ asked him, tauntingly as he looked at Frank like he was prey.  _ X _ was almost like  _ Him _ , except  _ X _ was ten times worse with everything. Much harsher, more humiliating, and  _ X _ was always, always last to do the most damage to end their play time before leaving, and coming the next day… and then the next day.

“Did you miss us?”  _ X _ asked, walked towards Frank, lifted his chin and forced Frank to make eye contact. “These three days are going to be great, huh? We bring you food in returns of  _ favors _ . Does _ He _ do that? We’re  _ much _ nicer than  _ Him _ .”

They didn’t waste their time any longer. C was carrying the food in a styrofoam box, and he sat it down on the cold, dirty ground. X’s fingers were in Frank’s hair, yanking him back. Frank’s scalp was protesting in pain, but there was nothing he could do. One hand was yanking Frank’s hair, the other was gripping his jaw open, letting A come first to use Frank however he deemed fit; it usually started with a blowjob, but nothing more from A because “he’s not a fag,” which didn’t make any sense to Frank, but he wasn’t about to complain. The blowjob was brutal nonetheless.  _ A _ would force Frank to choke on his dick, stay there for minutes that felt like hours. But it was better than... _ other _ things. 

++

Frank felt sore; his throat was dry, his cheeks red from crying. They had long gone, leaving Frank feeling helpless and used, disgusting. Frank craved a shower, but they locked the door. He wondered if he could ask them the next time they came over… he would rather have a shower than eat. Frank loved taking a shower -- it was refreshing somehow, he thought.  Starting fresh. Rubbing himself raw, away from the dirtiness that lingered from the disgusting men he was forced to be with. Men who hurt him. Frank never understood how he could have gotten himself into this mess. 

How could he have know that meeting  _ Him  _ would turn his life into this? What did he do? Frank had no idea. He would often wrack his brain, thinking back to the first time he meet  _ Him.  _ Frank remembered feeling flustered around him. He was an attractive man, middle-aged, but still attractive.

_ He  _ worked with Frank’s dad in a business firm, which the  _ Man _ knew Frank since he was little. Frank briefly wondered if his dad knew where he was, or if they were looking for him. Or did they give up trying to find him? It was common that people would come up missing in the part of town he lived in. Bodies often wound up in the lake, or in the forest where hikers would stumbleupon. The hikers would be on the news not too long after, the news anchor warning about the harms of being outside. Another body was just another story.

++

A day or so later, the three men came back to see Frank. Frank hadn’t slept too well, anticipated their arrival. Frank felt weak, disgusted because he smelled as well. Frank looked at the men walking down the steps. Their feet stomping down, loudly. Frank darted his eyes back down to the ground, waiting for them to talk to him. Waiting for his time to talk.

They didn’t say anything. Frank hesitated before he spoke. “Sirs?” he shyly asked, waited for a slap — anything for speaking out of turn? Or was it? He addressed them with respect, didn’t he?

“Yes, Frankie?”  _ A  _ responded, crossed his arms against his chest as he smirked at the pathetic animal beneath him.

“M-may I take a shower?  _ He  _ lets me as long as  _ He’s _ in the room… I just would love to take a shower. I won’t be too long; I’ll let you do whatever, please.” Frank started to tremble as he waited for their reply. 

Frank squeaked as he felt a firm hand yanking him up on his feet. He kept his eyes down as he was trained to do. Another had his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t run off. He didn’t know who had his hands and whose hands were in his hair. A shower was all he could think about at that exact moment. They were going to let him shower, even if it meant that they were going to watch him. What if they bathed him? That would be humiliating but… a shower  _ is _ a shower, Frank thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he took one, besides the fact that he stunk and felt dirty. 

Frank felt his heart racing fast as he came towards the basement door, the hands on him gripped even harder, letting him know that they would hurt him if he tried anything. Frank didn’t want to push his luck, whatsoever, so he decided to just listen and do what he was allowed to do. When they got to the bathroom, they swung the door open, and shoved him inside. Frank stumbled from the sudden push, standing straight up against the wall as he waited for  _ A _ to come inside. Typically,  _ He _ helped him by starting the water… making it a  _ temperature _ that  _ He _ liked. Sometimes it was too cold. Sometimes it was too hot. In the end, Frank guessed that it didn’t matter because he got a shower nonetheless. 

_ A _ turned the water on, throwing Frank into the bathtub. Frank gasped as he felt the cold water surround him, making him shiver as he hoped that  _ A _ would at least turn the temperature up at least a little bit. Frank wasn’t about to ask, though. Frank guessed after a few minutes, it wouldn’t go up and he had to live with the fact that he was taking a freezing bath.

“Feel good?” _A_ asked, chuckling to himself as he washed and scrubbed at the filthy boy beneath him. _A_ was rubbing him raw, chuckling every time Frank hissed or said ow -- not meaning to. When it came to washing his hair, he was dunked underneath the water where he couldn’t breath. It felt like hours until he was able to breathe. It kept going as his hair was washed, and when he was finished, he got out of the bath. _A_ didn’t give Frank a towel to dry off with, instead, he dripped water across the entire floor, leading to the basement. 

Frank knew what happened afterwards.


End file.
